The Natural Order of Monsters
by King Kilter
Summary: After being trapped by a monster, Joan is no longer the same person. In fact, she's not really a person at all anymore. But the local pack is especially protective and curious when they find that she's an unusual wolf... Characters/places from Mercy books as well as Alpha and Omega
1. Of Loss and Control

After being trapped by a monster, Joan is no longer the same person. In fact, she's not really a person at all anymore.

But the local pack is especially protective and curious when the find that she's an unusual wolf...

**General Warning:** This story is really sick and twisted; please don't read it if you are too young for rape, graphic sex, cursing, etc. I'm actually sort of disturbed at myself for writing it; the rape scenes are in the first two chapters, and they are disturbing. Please don't read this if you are underage.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Everything you recognize belongs to Patricia Briggs. I took the universe and characters from the Mercy Thompson series and the Alpha and Omega series. Briggs is awesome and I love her work! Yes, I made my own character, but use her if you want, use anything really, just credit me and let me know so I can read and enjoy it!

**The Natural Order of Monsters**

"He always lost control on the full moon.

I suppose it was strange that I no longer thought of him as out of control the rest of the month. The first few weeks he had me, every gentle caress, every time he spoon fed me meals, every time he assisted me in the bathroom felt like a violation. I thought it felt like rape. He broke my wrists when I wouldn't stop fighting back, and tied them behind my back in such a twisted tight way I knew they would heal back wrong. I remember crying from the pain, then crying because I'd never play piano again. I should have been crying for my soon-to-be-lost humanity.

He was some kind of fucked up creep I'd never heard of before. I think it bothered me that I didn't really understand him. I used to be addicted to crime shows; the true crime ones where they looked at real serial killers and police investigations, the super fake ones where they investigate crime scenes with bad one liners and super-hot lab techs; I guess it's not that weird that after marathon-ing 12 seasons of Law and Order SVU—that's the one where they go after rapists and child molesters, the sick fucked up shit you feel guilty for being addicted to—well, after all that I kept trying to figure him out like I would be able to in 42 minutes of TV. Like, in what episode was the bad guy his brand of crazy? How did the cops eventually save the victim? Were there more before me? Were they going to follow a trail of bodies and evidence here and save me just before he killed me? Was he even going to kill me? Was he going to rape me?

I had a lot of time to think about him, to over-analyze every action, as though he was a character in some literature I had studied. Being a kidnapped English major held away from academia and useless over-thinking about Dickens will do that to you. Being chained up by a lunatic will do that to you.

After two weeks of being spoon-fed, being carried around, having my ass wiped for me, I came to the conclusion that he had some sort of messed up complex about being a father. Like, he needed a child to take care of, so he took me, made me helpless, and then felt real great about helping me. I was half right.

'You don't have to do anything; you just have to be precious, and I'll take care of you. I'll keep you safe." Those were his words. Glad I had him to keep me safe from some creep who might want to chain me up and make me a monster. It was more than protecting me though—he wanted to control every part of my life. So, two weeks in and I thought of him as some sort of mentally disturbed guy who just needed to control and take care of me in his own fucked up way.

But he always lost control on the full moon.

I knew was on the full moon because up in the corner of… because in my…my cell…God… it really was a cell wasn't it?" My breaths came in irregular gasps.

"It's all over now Joan, it was a long time ago. Can you keep going?" He put his pen down and looked at me with sympathy…or was that pity? I took a breath.

"Yea I'm fine. It's just so strange to look back on it now and realize just how fucked up it all was. Like, I lived… I lived in a glorified cage for more than two years. I was in a cage longer than I was in college. It just…doesn't feel like that's possible. Like, that can't be my life."

I turned toward the window and sighed, gathering my thoughts, gathering the threads of my story, gathering what made it an important story for people to know. I had to gather my courage, I had to be strong enough to expose myself yet again; so much depended on me telling this story right.

"This is all important. You have to understand this if you want to understand what happened after…after he… I digress; I'm ahead of myself. I knew it was the full moon because in the corner of… my cell, there was a small half window near the ceiling. It wasn't really a cell in the traditional sense… I think in a way it was actually creepier than that. When I first woke up –he had drugged me outside of the library at my school one night, very suddenly—I didn't even realize I was in that much danger. The basement of his cabin was fitted out like a studio apartment or something, like a combined living room and bedroom. There was a couch and an armchair, both of good quality. The walls were papered in an old-lady floral pattern and there was a standing lamp beside the bed…which I was on. I thought it was a bit weird that the floor was slab cement, instead of carpet. Then I noticed that I had chains around my feet; one chain really, it wrapped from one ankle under the bed and around to my other ankle. I started screaming. He came through the door in a flash running over, asking what was wrong, if I was OK. At first I thought I was saved from whatever freak had chained me up. I told him he had to help me get out of here. He said…

He said 'Sweetie, I can't let you go. I have to keep you safe, and here is the safest place for you to be.' Fucking creep. Like I said, at first he really did treat me that way. Like I was his beloved pet dog or something. He was strong. Inhumanly strong. He was strangely young too, at least for what you'd expect of a creep keeping you prisoner. He looked maybe 30 with dark brown hair and eyes, and pale skin. The 'who knows where I'm from' white that dominates our country. But I figured freaks and rapists could come in any form. For a long time I felt like I should be doing more to get away, but looking back, I can't believe I resisted as long as I did. I really…I started to believe he really did want to protect me and keep me safe. He was just so mentally disturbed he thought this was an appropriate way to do it. He'd been watching me for weeks, months maybe, before he got me. I felt violated that he had watched me eat, watched me change. He knew my favorite foods, wanted to dress me in clothes similar to my regular style. Actually... now that I think about it, he probably took me because he could tell i was a doormat even before he trained me to be one.

The first few days, I didn't eat anything he gave me, and that really upset him. That was when he broke my wrists and tied them behind me. So he could spoonfeed me easier, I guess. I was afraid, and I was hungry, so I started eating eventually.

He was gone a lot of the day, I guess to go to work. It goes without saying that the house was in the middle of nowhere, or at least far enough that no one ever heard me scream. I had no idea if I had originally been drugged for two hours or two days. I could be anywhere really. The daytime was horrible. Just lying there, waiting around, feeling sorry for myself. I wasn't hopeless, not yet, but I did feel useless. I would kick, scream, piss the bed, anything I could do to keep him from sleeping beside me at night. He liked to cuddle me and sleep down there.

The day of the full moon, about two, three weeks after I first woke up there, he sat on the bed next to me and started brushing my hair gently. I was sitting really still, and looking ahead blankly, because my latest theory was that if he was treating me like a doll, if I just acted like one, he would get bored with me and just kill me, or let me go. Yea right. So anyway, he was brushing my hair when he told me. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which was weird because the basement got pretty cold. He hardly ever wore one, so maybe he wanted me to see he well-muscled form, or he just got really hot. Or maybe I just thought it was cold because he had started to leave me naked. Too much trouble to dress me with my arms all fucked up behind me.

'Sweetie, I've wanted to share this with you for a while. Now that you know you can trust me to keep you safe, I think it's time.' He smiled at me proudly. I stared ahead, trying to think doll thoughts. No thoughts. 'You might not believe it… yet... but I'm a werewolf.' He waited for my reaction. If me not responding (because really, I already knew he was crazy, why would more crazy delusions surprise me?) fazed him for long, he didn't show it. 'It might sound crazy at first,' now that's an understatement, 'but it's true. But you don't have to be afraid! I won't turn down here, not in your home. I'll go into the woods. I'm not going to change you, not for a while yet.' Still no reaction from me, and he was starting to get frustrated. He said it a few more times, like I couldn't hear him or something.

But like I said, he always lost control on the full moon.

'Answer me damn it!' He threw me back against the bed and bent my head back, stretching my neck painfully. He leaned down and bit my neck, hard enough to draw blood. 'I am your alpha, and you will submit to me!' I started to cry.

'Oh, Sweetie, no, no, it's okay!' He sat back up and pulled me into his arms like I was a baby. 'Sweetie, you don't have to worry, really. I won't change down here, not yet, and I don't want to change you until you've had our baby, because you can't have a baby once I change you.' I froze. I still thought he was crazy about the werewolf thing, but I knew he knew how a baby was made. So much for my theory about his need-to-be-a-daddy issues with me. He smiled and giggled a little.

'Aren't you excited to have a baby? I'll protect it and keep it safe. It will be ours, as you are mine. So, you have to stop crying, because I don't want you to cry during our first time.'

I stopped playing a doll. I kicked and screamed and struggled, but sweet talk or not, he was determined to have what was his. That first time, it hurt a lot. And not just because it was my actual first time either, cliché as that is. Despite his sweet talk, he was really rough in subduing me, and like I said, he was really strong. He maneuvered me abound onto my stomach, so that my legs were twisted up. It was jerky and horrible and painful and rough and I was so ashamed… Ashamed at how eventually I just went still and took it. I just let him rape me. They say victims like that, they can drift away from their bodies or whatever. I tried to drift. I just heard his breathing, his grunting, his murmuring to me. Drift away my ass. I was choking, couldn't breathe out my nose from crying, and I think he cracked a rib when he was holding me down.

I can still hear him panting and calling me sweetie when I think about it. like, hear the exact way he said it, feel the way his breath was on me. He howled when he came. He actually fucking howled." I blinked back tears.

"God… I'm sorry, let's take a quick break, I'll go grab us some coffee." He stood up and took a breath to steady himself, but I could smell the disgust and the panic rolling off of him. I think I preferred the pity.

"Dark and sweet please. Really sweet." I said, overly cheerful, blinking away at my wet eyes. We were just barely getting started and he had no idea that this would be the first of many, many uncomfortable coffee breaks. As he left I sighed. I was not looking forward to the next part of the story. My alpha had once told me that my strength was not in my muscles, so I should not measure my worth by my ability to arm wrestle. Still, fighting would feel more concrete than pouring out the horrible parts of my life I wanted to forget. But he was right.

I wasn't so strong that I might fight for him. I wasn't so clever that I might lie and weasel our way out of this mess. I wasn't much help at all honestly. What I was—a pissed off English major drop out, determined to save my new family—was someone with limited tools. I had the truth, I had my story, and I had my words. They would have to be enough.


	2. Of Monsters and Men

**Warning:** This story is really sick and twisted; please don't read it if you are too young for rape, graphic sex, cursing, etc. I'm actually sort of disturbed at myself for writing it; the rape scenes are in the first two chapters, and they are... well, graphic descriptions of what rape does to a person—based on my experience and my imagination. Please don't read this if you are underage or sensitive. Honestly. Don't go there.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything. Everything you recognize belongs to Patricia Briggs. I took the universe and characters from the Mercy Thompson series and the Alpha and Omega series. Briggs is awesome and I love her work. Please don't sue me!

**Of Monsters and Men**

"He sat and petted me, just stroked my hair for a long time after. Then he started to get twitchy and said more crap about being a wolf. Then he left. I believed that he believed the wolf thing was true. But I still thought it was bullshit. For a while at least. I cried and cried. I was so sad. I mourned so much loss. I mourned my innocence, my life that would never be, my sanity that was sure to be gone. I was beyond whispering to myself about how I needed to be strong. Actually now that I think about it…my life as I knew it was dying, and I was moving through the stages of grief. That's sort of funny. Not ha-ha funny but…well..."

"Sorry but… do you not want to tell me his name? I can't really just use him the whole time, gets a bit confusing." He was taking casual notes, mostly just looking at my face and writing expressions I think. He was recording the audio on his phone anyway.

"His name was Jim. I just don't… I guess I don't really like to say it much, if that's OK with you." I gave a pitiful smile.

"Oh, oh of course, yea. I'm sorry." he flushed as if he was embarrassed he should have thought of that. "Go on, please. I'll quit interrupting." I took a breath. Actually, his little interruptions were helping me stay on track with the big picture—I could gather my thoughts.

"I suppose the best way to put it is that things fell into a pattern. I don't know if I actually started to believe that he had my best interests in mind, or if some survival instinct just turned on and found that cooperation was the best way to make it through. I think I was just submissive even then, ready to please, to be a doormat. I knew in my mind he was a fucking lunatic, but somehow he started to feel like… I don't know how to describe it. It wasn't like I loved him exactly… but like… that I had accepted he must be dominant for a reason, that he knew what was best and I should trust him. I mean, that didn't happen right away, but after a while I just… accepted my situation. He started to bring me books, and that helped my mood. He started to tell me about his life, his childhood, how he got turned. I won't go into it—it's pretty fucked up honestly. He worked for Conference and Events Services at my college-lifting tables, jugs of water, stacks of plates, stuff like that. He first saw me when I was volunteering to organize and set up a party to watch the election coverage.

We talked a lot, and he treated me like a princess. A princess whose hands were practically useless after being broken and bound together for months—I can't believe they healed at all. I looked forward to him coming home, to see what he would bring me to read. I started reading to him while he would cuddle up with me. The rape, after a few months… it stopped being so violent. I started accepting it. Never looking forward to it, but I stopped fighting. He still kept me locked down there—he had bared the window and the door headed upstairs was thick and heavy, with multiple padlocks. But as I accepted his attentions, he eventually removed the chains and I could move around.

I started realizing I had some power over him. If I could convince him I really wanted something, it would make me really happy, he would bring it to me. Within reason, at least. That's how he started bringing me the newspaper. He brought me crafting supplies, though nothing sharp. Sadly, I couldn't really get him with a crocheted needle. I'm not sure what I would have done if I had. He went to the library more often, bringing me books on whatever I wanted. It was sort of… nice. I felt like such shit about that after, that I was…almost happy. I was so angry at myself because I had given up trying to find a way to escape and instead tried to find a way to be happy.

I was literally a sex slave, but I started to feel… lucky. I felt lucky that he loved me enough to buy me art supplies, and books on painting from the library. He told me about why he had chosen me and I felt proud that I was good enough to have his baby. Isn't that just like the most fucked up part? I was just this short, curvy (chubby to be honest) dirty blond nobody, a nerd that couldn't even get another nerd to like me. Yet, he had chosen me. That's just… It makes me so sad to think my first real feeling of physical self-worth came when I felt pretty enough to have a stalker, kidnapper and rapist.

I read so much; he brought me a bag of books every day. I remember thinking how sweet that was, that he would think about me enough to go all over the library and get so many different things. Nonfiction, literature, crappy urban fantasy about werewolves. Ironic. To this day I feel well read and knowledgeable thanks to him. I pushed myself to graduate high school early, to go to a great college, and yet I still attribute my intelligence, in some part, to him. Again with all the self worth, right?

After…maybe five months or so we realized I was pregnant, had been for a bit. He was ecstatic and brought me home every baby book from the library. He didn't stop fucking me, but he was more gentle. He treated me like a goddess, waited on me hand and foot. Brought home pre-natal vitamins, even bought me a mini-fridge so that I could keep more food down there. Jim said I needed to fatten up our baby so he would be strong.

I was panicking. The thought of the baby shocked me out of my fucked up little dream world where we were a happy couple on a 50's sitcom. By this time I believed the werewolf thing—he had shown me what happens with silver, and the bruises I gave him in the beginning healed so fast. But it was the bite that convinced me; one of our first few times, I managed to bite his shoulder really good—and then I watched the would close up in front of me. So I believed him, and I believed that our baby would be a monster. That he was going to turn me into something as crazy as him after the baby was born. I was so afraid, so anxious.

When I lost the baby not long after, that's what he blamed it on. He was very angry with me, blamed me. But he didn't waste any time putting another baby in me.

I lost that one too. I didn't know that it's really typical, miscarriage for a human woman and her werewolf mate. He never told me that, I suppose because he either didn't know or didn't want to think it was his fault. Anyway, the third pregnancy stuck. He went back to treating me like a treasure, and I sort of accepted that whatever happened when the baby was born would happen. All the pregnancy and motherhood books had me sort of excited, actually. Before all this happened, I really wanted children. At 19 I thought wistfully about how my husband would dote on a pregnant me and how happy my children would be. Silly me.

A bit to my surprise, the pregnancy lasted. With no doctor but my library educated self, I caught my own little boy. I'm sort of proud of that. I can't believe it went that well honestly—TV and my imagination had prepared me for the reality that all births go horribly wrong. Well, I was young, healthy, and as prepared as I could be. Luckily, he was at work when I had him, or the blood and my screaming might have made him go wolf. Jim was gloriously happy about the baby. I think dominant instincts actually lead to being a good father, even if you are crazy. Jim looked at that baby and I knew he would die for him.

After the baby was born, he turned me. It pretty much involved him nearly mauling me to death and leaving me to see if I would heal. I was out for a few days, and when I woke up, most of me was healed where he had bitten me, and I could use my hands a lot better. Bran says that he's really surprised I turned, that I beat the odds. I guess it's harder for women, for submissives, and for people who don't want the change. Most of them just die. Lucky me, I guess. I get to be a monster."

"Sorry to interrupt Joan, but… do you really think of yourself as a monster? Even after all this time?" He had stopped taking notes and was just staring down at his coffee like he was too afraid—no, too disgusted—to look at me. Or maybe he was shocked. Who knows how someone would react to a story like this. I couldn't blame him. I sighed.

"A monster is something that's wrong within the natural order and does harm. I've come a long way in accepting myself, but I still believe that. So, yea, I guess I think of myself as a monster. I used to have trouble separating...types of monsters. I mean-Jim's wolf isn't what made him a monster, it just lent him the strength to be effective at rape and torture, power and control.

Anyway, the baby died at nine days old. Jim was so mad, he thought I did something. Hell I thought I did something. Tried to kill the baby in my sleep, gave bad milk, burped him too hard with my new strength or something. I really did love… my little boy. I won't say his name. In fact, I'm just going to move on. I've thought enough about why he died, where he's buried, what he would have grown up to be like…that's the worst way I've tortured myself honestly. Let's move on.

After the baby died, he really started to torture me. I figured he'd kill me soon, now that I couldn't have another baby. I hoped he would. I never wanted to change. I could feel the wolf rolling around under my skin, staying still only to obey my alpha. I didn't know we weren't really bound by pack magic. But my wolf did know he was dominant, and I was submissive. How could I be anything else?

The months after that were when he broke me. I guess he snapped. Just went crazy. Anna told me that the wolf who tortured her was like that, just fucking nuts… Anyway I'll get to Anna later. It's a little weird that I think of him now as really bang out nuts after that, even though he was a chronic rapist and kidnapper before that. I just… I think of him as being ill, like having some mental illness where his heart was in the right place but he couldn't function right. Part of that belief is what made things so hard in the transition after, I guess.

He was so violent then-and I could heal. He was, in his words, punishing me. He was mad he turned me before we knew the baby would live. His mistake, that I paid for. I think by now you can imagine what he did to me. It's only important for me to say that by now, my mentality was that he really was my protector, my alpha. If he was mad, I deserved it. If he punished me, it was because I needed discipline. I submitted my will to him, like any good submissive. He had already broken my spirit, something a sub usually doesn't have to give up. So, for three months he was angry, and I was in a bad way, always healing, never eating enough. Before I was his prized possession, his treasure. Now I was his toy to play with. Is it wrong that that made me so sad? He didn't teach me anything about being a wolf. He still went out to run with his pack, and left me to change in that godforsaken basement. He didn't replace any of the torn furniture when I broke them as an angry, cooped up wolf. At least he never bound me, not that he had in a long time. A submissive wolf has to follow commands. It's not really a choice, its magic. He told me not to struggle. I'm not sure I would have if he hadn't. I was so broken.

One day he just didn't come back. I found out later that he had lost some dominance fight in his pack, had his neck ripped out to where even a were couldn't survive. How unsatisfying. Bran thinks that he probably started to think he was hot stuff because he was so dominant over me, in every way, that he grew to be overly confident and challenged the wrong guy. I think he was a fucking creep anybody would love to have a shot at killing. But then, maybe I'm a bit biased. I went hungry for a while when no one showed up. For a while I screamed, trying to get somebody's attention but I sort of knew it was hopeless. So I starved for over a week. I didn't realize it had been that long, I sort of just slept a lot. I drank water out of the toilet he had put in for me. I'm not proud of it, but he never put in a sink. He used to give me sponge baths and he liked to wash my hair himself, in this big…well I digress. You don't need to know every detail I guess. We're past that part of the story-I'm past it! But I still remember every detail; I can still picture the pattern on the couch, and hear the squeak of the bed…

Anyway, after him being gone so long, I was sort of just waiting for death. I was thinking I should probably think of a way to kill myself better than starving to death, but I just didn't have the energy. The fucked up thing was that I sort of missed him… ugh I don't even want to think about that. It was so quiet, and I was thinking about how he really had kept me safe…two years is a long time you know? Stockholm syndrome and all that…

I was just lying down, staring at the wall, mourning my life, thinking about how everyone I had known so long ago probably already thought I was dead when I heard the car pull up the gravel driveway. Wolves have killer hearing."


	3. Of Lost and Found

After being trapped by a monster, Joan is no longer the same person. In fact, she's not really a person at all anymore.

But the local pack is especially protective and curious when they find that she's an unusual wolf…

**Warning:** Please don't read this you are too young for rape, graphic sex, cursing, etc.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Everything you recognize belongs to Patricia Briggs. I took the universe and characters from the Mercy Thompson series and the Alpha and Omega series. Briggs is awesome and I love her work—my characters and story exist in her world, but I'm not making any money off of it, so please don't sue me.

**Of Lost and Found**

"I sat up, listening intently. I knew something was going on, not only because Jim had been gone for over a week, but because he drove a loud truck. He had fixed it up himself, or so he told me. I was used to my wolf ears by now, and the engine crunching over the gravel above, sounded smaller and smoother. I heard voices outside, but the car kept running. Someone came in the front door.

'Jim?' I called, weakly, from the bed. Why had he been gone so long?

'Hello?' Called a stranger's voice—someone else was in the house! 'Who's there?' It was a man's voice. Not Jim. He was not Jim. Should I be afraid? Should I be relieved? I just froze instead. Shock, I guess.

'Hello? I know someone's here. I'm… I'm an old friend of Jim's. Just come out.' His voice was gruff, and I could hear him moving about above me. I started to cry—everything made me cry back then—but I still said nothing. I think he smelled me out when he got to the kitchen. It must have been rank.

'I'm coming down the stairs. I know you're there.' I scuttled off the bed and scooted up against the wall. I was wearing an old dress that had a hole near the hem. How embarrassing. I remember tucking it under me as he came downstairs in a fighters pose. He was average—just less that 6 foot maybe, with frizzy red hair and old-timey sideburns. 'Hello?' He called. Then his eyes caught me across the room. He sniffed the air, looking curious.

'Hello, I'm Stuart. Don't be afraid. I'm… an old friend of Jim's.' He smiled at me, but with his eyebrows up and surprised. 'What's your name?'

No reason not to be polite.

'I'm Joan,' I croaked out quietly.

'Okay Joan…' he looked at me curiously, eyes darting up the stairs, then back. 'What are you doing here Joan?'

I was really confused—I think I was too hungry for my brain to really be processing things right.

'I… are you hear to save me?' I asked. How strange, for there to be someone else in my room.

'Well, I wasn't expecting anyone to be here really. Do you… need saving?' It was probably concern and confusion, but to me, his eyes looked hungry. He took another step forward, and I backed further into the wall, shrinking down. He sniffed the air again, then twisted his head to the side, curiously. 'Are you a wolf? You smell… almost like one of us, but something's off.'

'Where's Jim?' I asked in a small voice, looking down at the ground, hiding when I couldn't escape. He took a shaking breath.

'Joan…Joan I'm sorry but Jim's dead. He died about a week ago… can you tell me more about who you are and why you are here?' I froze. It was like the bottom of everything had dropped out under me. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life down here, and now…people were here to save me. To rescue me. It had been so long since I had even thought of rescue that I had sort of forgotten that I was supposed to hope for it. I glanced up at him.

In the absence of any answer from me, he was looking around, taking in the locks on the door, the toilet in the corner, the claw marks in the sofa and on the bed. He took big breaths in his nose. Smelling I realized. He looked back at me with a face of horror, like shock and anger. 'I'll be right back,' He said softly, backing away from me, then turning to hustle up the stairs before he called out, to the guy still in the car I guess.

'Tom?! Tom you better get down here. I could use your expertise.' He hustled back down the stairs, then slowed as he approached me and kneeled, catching my eyes. 'It's all over now. You're safe. You don't have to be afraid of me. I'll keep you safe.'

Jim had been keeping me safe. Oh yippee, someone new to do that. I wasn't thinking straight. I rolled over to my left, and slipped under the bed. He didn't stop me, just kept murmuring that it was OK, whispering that I shouldn't be afraid.

'Stuart? I smell another wolf. Is someone here?' Another man's voice came from upstairs. He was talking at a normal volume, not yelling, but we both heard him just fine. 'Where are you?'

'Yea Tom… there's someone down here. A woman. I think… I think Jim…' He faltered, and I head a thump as he fell down from his crouch to his bottom. 'I'm in the basement, the stairs are in the kitchen.' I could hear the heavy footsteps of this new guy, Tom, as he came downstairs.

'What is it? The wolf is still here? Is she from another pack? I don't recognize her scent. Where is she?' I could hear the curiosity in his voice. 'I smell fear, is everything allright?'

'Tom…she's under the bed. She's afraid. I think… I think Jim kept her down here. Look at the door, the deadbolts are meant to lock something in… she said her name is Joan and then she hid under the bed. Do they train you for this kinda stuff?' His voice was paining.

'Oh my God you think he…Jesus Christ he kept her down here? Did he turn her or abduct her from another pack? Did she say how long she's been here? God, I smell old blood.' I heard who I assumed was Tom taking deep breaths. 'Okay… okay… I'm not equipped for this. The closest I've ever come to this is calls for domestic dispute. Call Angus, tell him what you know, he'll decide if this is a pack matter or a police matter. I guess… I'll talk to her.' His voice had gone from hesitant to confident.

'Okay… Joan, this is Tom. He's a police officer, you can trust him. I'm going to go upstairs and make a phone call, but you don't have to be afraid of me and Tom. You don't have to be afraid anymore, okay?' The man, Stuart, sounded so desperate, like it was so important to save me. That's a dominant for you I guess. Protect and possess, not necessarily in that order. Too bad I didn't understand any of that just yet. I heard him move back up the stairs, and Tom lowered himself floor. I could hear his movements, but the comforter hang over the edge of the bed so we couldn't see each other.

'Hey Joan. Like he said, I'm Tom. Everything is OK now. Do you want to come out from under there and talk to me?' He sounded so sweet, like he was talking to a little kid.

'Not really,' I said softly.

'Are you scared of me?' His voice was sad. Full of pity, I think.

'It's just,' I coughed. 'It hurts to talk.' It didn't really, my throat had healed days ago, but it was true that my fucked up little world was shattering, and it hurt. For one I didn't trust them, but I had also spent so much time forgetting I was in a prison that being saved was reminding me just what kind of situation I was in. Plus… in a fucked up way, I was upset that Jim was dead. Put it up to Stockholm Syndrome, wolf pack structures, whatever. I was hurting in a lot of ways.

'That's okay; we can just sit for a minute.' He sounded calm, but who knows what he was thinking. I could hear the phonecall going on upstairs.

'Angus, it's Stuart…Yes, something is definitely wrong…We went to Jims house to clean up traces of the pack, like you said, and we found—we found a woman. A were, locked up in the basement….no….no…no one I recognize…long, really long, dark blond hair, blue eyes… no I couldn't get a good idea, I never saw her standing, short I think… yea she was curled up in the corner than huddled under the bed. Tom is with her now… I don't know…You better head over… Smells like a long time. Like dried blood and so much fear… God, I thought my wolf was goana loose it. We haven't called them yet, we were waiting for your go-ahead. If she is from another pack, getting the police involved could be messy. … I don't know, it's possible. Look, I think… OK...Yes… Alright. See you soon.' He hung up and I heard him coming back down the stairs. 'Angus is on his way.'

'We heard, Stuart.' There was a long, pause, and a small growl. I wondered if they were communicating with gestures.

I cleared my throat. 'Can someone explain what's going on?'

'Well,' it was Tom's voice. 'I'm not really sure…about you. We're Tom and Stuart, from the Emerald City Pack, and Angus, our packmaster is on the way. Do you think you can tell me a little about what happened to you? You don't have to come out if you are still afraid.' He sounded calm and reasonable.

'But you don't have to be afraid, not of us, and not of Jim, at least anymore. He's dead, now, Tom—' there was a thump, and Stuart quit talking.

'Joan, I would be very pleased if you would talk to me. Can you try to tell me anything?' Tom was asking so nicely, I didn't want to disappoint.

'I… Jim…' I gathered my thoughts, taking a shuddering breath. How could I explain the last two years of my life to perfect strangers, especially when I didn't even understand or accept what had happened?

'How long have you been down here Joan?' Tom asked, calmly.

'I think…well, he took me during finals week.' I wasn't making sense. I knew it, but something inside me had snapped; it was as if the realization that I was broken, that I had been for a while made human contact suddenly so difficult.

'Okay,' He said, as though that were a perfectly rational answer. 'And when was finals week exactly?'

'Fall quarter ends the first week of December, but that was a long time ago,' I said. So long ago.

Would I be able to go back to school now? School was once my life. Now my life was this room.

'Jesus fucking Christ, he's had her here for four months!' Stuart's voice had a New England accent. I hadn't noticed until I heard the way he swore.

'Stuart, go upstairs and wait for Angus,' Tom said, his voice commanding.

'But—' a growl silenced him, and I heard him shuffle off.

'Sorry about him. So, you've been down here a while. Did Jim turn you, or were you a were when he took you?' He sounded so calm, but so strong. Like there was nothing to do but answer him. I started to feel like everything would be alight.

'He did it after the baby was born.' I could feel…no, I could smell the shock, his sharp intake of breath. There was a long pause.

'The baby?' He said, his voice so low I barely heard it.

I didn't say anything because I heard the sound of more crunching gravel, flitting in from the little window in the corner. Someone else was pulling up the driveway.

'Okay…God. Joan, my Alpha—our leader—is going to come down. His name is Angus. He is a good man, and you have nothing to fear from him. It's all over now. Okay?' his voice was starting to break, like he was full of emotion or something. I didn't say anything. A door opened upstairs, and then, heavy footsteps made their way across the house and down the stairs. Three strange wolves in the house now, and all of them supposedly hear to save me.

'Tom.' The voice of the new man was deep and commanding. 'Is she under the bed?'

'Yes, she was afraid of us. I'm not sure she believes that Jim is dead or that we are not here to hurt her. Her name's Joan.' I heard him stand up as he spoke. 'Angus,' he whispered, his voice sounding a bit panicked. 'She said something about a baby.'

'Joan,' Angus' voice was rich and confident. 'You are safe. Come out from under the bed.' He didn't raise his voice but I could feel the command. I didn't want to, but I had to move. He was commanding me, and like a good submissive, I had to obey.

I slowly crawled out from under the bed, my dirty dress sliding along the slab cement floor. I kept my eyes on that floor as I pulled myself onto my knees. I wasn't really afraid of them honestly. I was just so…ashamed.

I could imagine how they were seeing me. This filthy slip of a girl, starving, all used up. Something so worn out and broken that it's no longer worth fixing. I still thought of myself as a thing then, a broken toy for someone else's use. I hadn't quite worked myself back to being human.

'Look at me.' His voice was soft, and yet again, I felt the compelling nature of his voice, a command that hit so naturally it was like my brain telling my heart to beat. I looked up at him. I was surprised to find a slight man, no more than five foot ten or so before me. From his voice and from the weight of his presence, I expected…I don't know. Some sort of commanding macho guy. Instead, kneeling before me was a thin but handsome man with sandy hair and dark eyes. Eyes that locked with my own blue for just a second before I just had to drop mine, as natural as blinking.

'Hello Joan. I'm Angus.' his voice was kind and unassuming. 'Today, I'm going to take you away from here to my home, somewhere safe. We're also going to talk some so that I can understand what happened to you. What's not going to happen—' he reached forward, slowly toward my face. I flinched a bit, but he continued his movement until he tipped my chin up so I was looking into his dark, earnest eyes. 'No one will hurt you. No one will trap you anywhere you don't want to be. You are under my protection now, and that means I will keep you safe no matter what.' he stared at me, awaiting response. When he said it, I _just knew_, the way you _just know_ 2+2=4, that everything he said was true. But I didn't trust my instincts, not after everything.

'Jim said he was protecting me. He said he was keeping me safe,' I deadpanned, watching for his reaction. His eyes narrowed, and he took a heave breath. Was he angry at me?

'Jim is dead. I thought he was just a creep, but he was clearly a monster. I saw him die myself. He can't hurt you anymore. He was… ill. Something was wrong with him, clearly. Don't believe what he told you.' He extended a long, tan arm to me, open palmed. 'Will you stand up?'

I rolled over what he said. I knew he was right, I knew Jim was a monster. That he had held me for so long, that he had made me believe otherwise—that only proved how everything that had ever happened in this room was so wrong. I nodded for a long minute, thinking about everything and trying to accept that I was rescued. Now, that sounds so silly. That being saved was something I had to mull over before I understood what was happening…but everything was so wrong, and I was so hungry. And it had literally been years since I had seen a face that wasn't Jim's.

I reached out, tentatively, to take the hand still hanging in front of me. I shifted and rose up. He smiled lightly, but I felt a bit dizzy. My vision sort of fizzed, like when the TV isn't getting reception, and my knees buckled. He pulled me towards him, and caught me as I fell. He felt so strong and warm against me.

'I'm going to pick you up now, is that alright? I don't want you to hurt yourself going up the stairs.' His chest rumbled against me. How did a man so slight have such a deep voice? I nodded, still staring at him. He scooped up my legs with his other arm, like I was his bride or something. I felt this relaxation in my temples. I was so surprised to truly feel… safe. His eyebrows furrowed.

'You're so…when was the last time you ate?' I thought back…it was sometime before Jim left—before he died—but I wasn't sure when. I just shrugged.

'Okay. So… I don't want to make you stay here any longer. Do you want to go straight to my house, a safe place, and we can eat there, or would you like to go out to eat? Either way we will have to talk. There is a lot we need to figure out.' I looked him in the eyes.

'I guess…um…' I dropped my eyes to his chest. 'We are still in Seattle right?' I felt him tense.

'Yes, we are in the Seattle area, at least.'

'Can we—can we go to Dick's? I've loved it since I moved here, and I haven't had it…in a long time.' Dicks is a drive in burger place, famous in the North West. All the grease you can eat.

He smiled, though his eyes were sad. 'To Dick's it is!' He carried me up the stairs, to where Tom and Stuart were standing, staring at Angus. Staring at me, I guess, still in his arms. 'Tom, drive over to my place, get a guest room ready. Not the injury room, she's a sub, so I doubt we'll need it. Stuart, you stay here, watch the place, see if you can find out if he had anybody else here ever.' His alpha voice, commanding, rumbling against me was like a lullaby. After all the excitement, my eyes were falling. I should have been looking around in wonder. I'd lived here over two years, and had never been upstairs. I'd wondered a lot about the rest of the house—but honestly, I can't remember a bit of what I saw while Angus carried me out to the car.

'But, Angus, she said something about a baby—a _baby_ Angus. We can't leave until we find it.' Tom's voice was anxious; now that his alpha was here, he didn't have to be the strong cop. Angus looked down at me, his eyes a question.

'He died,' I whispered sadly. 'A while ago. That's why Jim was so mad at me.' Angus pulled my head into his chest, gently shushing me and petting my hair. We were outside by now.

'Get the door for me, Tom. Then do what I said.' Angus gently sat me on the leather seat. A bench seat, like in a car from the 60's-it was a car from the 60's, I realized. A T-bird maybe? I'm not that great at cars. He closed the door quietly, and then quietly said something else to Tom as he walked around the front. As soon as got in the other side, I felt that feeling again. Warm. Safe.

'Can I lie down?' I asked cautiously. He had one hand on my headrest so he could turn and look behind us in order to back down the long driveway.

'Of course. Anything.' I cautiously leaned down and lay my head on his leg. He froze, but I just nuzzled my cheek a little against his slacks.

'Sorry it's just… you're so warm, and I'm so tired.' He reached a hand down and gently pet my hair once.

'Don't be sorry. Anything Joan, anything you want. Just please, don't be sorry.' I fell asleep then. I'm not sure how long we drove for. I was warm. I was safe. I was away.

I would die before I went back there."


	4. Of Truth and Eyes

After being trapped by a monster, Joan is no longer the same person. In fact, she's not really a person at all anymore.

But the local pack is especially protective and curious when they find that she's an unusual wolf…

**Warning:** Please don't read this you are too young for rape, graphic sex, cursing, etc.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Everything you recognize belongs to Patricia Briggs. I took the universe and characters from the Mercy Thompson series and the Alpha and Omega series. Briggs is awesome and I love her work—my characters and story exist in her world, but I'm not making any money off of it, so please don't sue me.

**Of Truth and Eyes**

"I jerked awake as he was gently lifting me out of the car. I shrieked and wriggled like a fish, but he caught me and pulled me close.

'Joan! It's OK, you're safe, it's me, Angus. Don't be afraid,' I relaxed into his hold sheepishly, calming my breath.

'Sorry, just…woke up a bit startled.' His face was so close to mine. He was so warm…why was I so cold?

It was evening where we were, somewhere on the far east side, up the Cascades by the look of the thick evergreens surrounding the driveway.

'Don't be sorry, it's my fault. I should have just woken you up.' He smiled at me, then set me on my feet still leaving a hand on the small of my back. He moved me in his arms like I weighed nothing, yet his frame was not bulky; I reminded myself that he was a werewolf, and I couldn't let myself feel too safe around him, even if his arms and voice surrounded me like a hypnotic safety net. His closeness and warmth was lulling me into a sense of security I didn't want to believe was false. He reached back in the car and pulled out four greasy paper bags. I smiled. 'Didn't think I forgot about Dick's did you? Just didn't want to wake you up. I also didn't know what you wanted so I got a lot of everything.' His voice was gently teasing as he shrugged.

'Gosh, thanks,' I smiled at him. He wasn't so bad—how was I ever afraid of him?

'No, thank you, for the excuse to get some grease in my belly,' he said, giving me a cheesy wink as he held all the bags out. I took them, obediently, balancing them in my arms. Then he scooped me back up and shut the car door with his foot.

'You need an excuse?' I asked, looking pointedly at massive amount of hot calories cradled on my dirty dress. He grinned down at me and raised his eyebrows.

'Nope.' He said, as his look turned thoughtful. 'I'm… I'm glad you're smiling.' I looked away. He was glad I still _could_ smile. And how could I? Shouldn't I be miserable, basking in the horrible as it consumed my capacity for stupid jokes? What did it say about me that being carried and smiled at by a handsome man was so strange and wonderful that my mindset could so easily move past the last two years? Would a _normal _woman have been ruined by what I had been through? Was I ruined long before Jim? Was I ever normal to begin with? As he walked up the drive and the porch with me in his arms, I was lost in thought; not over what wrongs were _done_ to me, but at what was wrong _within _me. Wow—doesn't that sentence just sum up my issues.

His house was beautiful. Stone and dark wood with lots of windows, it was a tall A-frame with at least three floors. It must have cost a fortune to heat in the winter.

The door opened in front of us. Tom held it open for us, looking anxious.

'Thanks Tom. Please take all this food from our guest and bring it upstairs with some plates and maybe some juice? We're going to eat and talk for a while in the atrium, uninterrupted.' Angus sounded polite, but his Alpha voice made the subtext clear—_don't butt in while I'm talking to the crazy girl we found_. I should have been frightened to be in the arms of a werewolf, a stranger, being carried into his home. But honestly, I was just admiring the décor. His house could have been furnished by the fanciest lumberjack ever. There was lots of dark stained wood, antique snowshoes on the wall, that sort of thing. The whole house smelled of pine, earth and man. He smelled that way too. Yummy. I felt his deep chuckle against me.

'What?' I asked, looking up at him as we started to climb the stairs.

'Were you smelling me?' He said, raising an amused eyebrow. Hey, who was the newly rescued damsel in distress here? Not the time to make fun of me.

'No—well yes. I was admiring your home—it's quite beautiful. And… it smells nice too.' He looked away, his smile softening a bit.

'Why thank you, on both counts. Yes, I love this house. I built it a long time ago. And my wife furnished it, actually, and it hasn't changed much.' I was definitely not thinking anything about him having a wife. That would have been awkward, and inappropriate considering the situation.

'You built it?' I asked, honestly curious. About the house. Not his wife. 'It seems so old.' We were on the third and final floor now. The tip of the A-frame was high above us, and the entire wall facing the staircase was glass. I blinked out at the beautiful full view of the trees outside. There was a couch, an armchair, and a coffee table positioned for staring out the massive window. On either side of the stairwell was a door, presumably to bedrooms, but the sitting room dominated this floor. Everything was wood, except for the couch and the chair which were burgundy and a dark green, respectively. Framed pressed wildflowers hung on the wood paneled walls. 'It's also incredibly beautiful. Are you an architect?'

He smiled, and moved to the couch, setting me down gently before he settled into the armchair. 'Well it is old. I built it in 1927. A good year, while it lasted. And yes, I'm a carpenter turned architect, or I was, back then at least.' I laughed.

'You mean you refurbished it?' I asked, smiling, desperate to be in on the joke. He looked maybe 30.

'No… I built it myself. With help from my men, though, yes. Is it that surprising I could be a builder?' I must have looked disbelieving. I wanted to believe every word that came from him. His eyes furrowed.

'Um, it's surprising that you would have to be, like, almost a hundred for that to be true.' I said with a breath of laughter, shaking my head.

He leaned in. 'Joan… you do know that werewolves live a very long time, don't you? I mean… theoretically forever, if you don't meet a violent end.' My jaw dropped, and I was speechless.

Can you imagine that? Me, speechless. It's sort of funny, if you don't think about what had been my reality for two years. Like, even when I was a socially awkward nerd, I talked too much. People like a shy girl, she's mysterious-but me? I'm a nervous talker who doesn't know when to stop."

_I paused to sip my coffee, actually smiling. The man across the table looked up from his notes at me curiously, with a slight smile, but didn't say anything. Encouraging but not interrupting I guess._

"No jokes about how even now I'm making a long story long? Well then, moving on.

So I was sitting there, speechless.

'Jesus,' He ran a hand through his sandy hair. 'Didn't he tell you—'He stopped himself and took a breath. 'I'm sorry, I'm going about this all wrong. There's so much to say and ask. Can you talk to me about what happened?'

'Um… Where do I start?' I was focusing on him, focusing on the task at hand. If I thought about how crazy all of this was, I'd go crazy myself. If I wasn't yet. A horrible thought hit me then, one I must admit came back to me often. _What if I was crazy and this was all some kind of waking dream? What if I was really still in that basement and this was some crazy fantasy world my mind created after it shattered with the death of my child? _

'How about we start with… when he took you. Do you know how long you've been down there? Can you remember the date you were taken?' His voice was gently inquisitive, and I took a breath._ The task at hand, the task at hand…_

'Yes it was during finals week-December 2nd, I think. In '92. I lost track of the days but it must have been… at least two years. It all sort of runs together.' I looked down as he quietly gasped, visibly controlling his calm.

'Two years four months since December 1992. He kept you down there that whole time?' His face was still but his nails were digging into the arms of the chair. Tom came up the stairs with a couple big plates piled up with all the grease you can eat and two carefully balanced glasses of juice, then headed back downstairs, waving away our thanks quietly.

I looked away from Angus and out the window. 'Yea. He took me from my school. I go—I went—to Seattle University. It's downtown, on—'

'Capitol Hill, I know. Do you think your family is looking for you? How old are you now?' I thought carefully.

'I guess I'll be 22 next month. I was raised by my grandmother, but by the time I went to college she was in a nursing home with severe Alzheimer's. If anyone talked to her about me it would probably just confuse her more. My older brother lives in South America, or at least he did two years ago. It's possible someone found out how to get in touch with him, but I wouldn't know how. Besides, he's 12 years older than me. We're not that close.' I can't believe I was being so calm and logical about this. Shouldn't I be needing a straightjacket right about now? 'There's my friends from school, but honestly, none of us were so close I want to call them up and let them know I'm done being held as a sexslave now, by the way how are you?' I could tell from his face that he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or apologize for my lot in life.

'Okay then, for now at least, we'll not contact anybody. Can you tell me what you know about being a werewolf? About when he changed you?' Now that I think about it, if I had lots of family looking for me, he wouldn't have let me go to them or let them know I was alive. The pack couldn't afford the police looking into where I'd been, how I'd survived, etc. But who knows.

'I know you turn into one every month, on the full moon. I know you smell better, and you're stronger—but not superman strong, or at least I'm not. You—we hear better after too. I know… werewolves can't be pregnant.' He waited for a moment, maybe for me to go on, before correcting me.

'Not exactly. You can change anytime, though as you probably know, it's unpleasant and physically draining. Yes, your senses are increased from that of a human's, but in wolf form, they are stronger still.' I made a face at his use of the word human_. Was I no longer human?_ 'You also have a silver allergy, as the stories say. One touch won't kill you, but silver poisoning is not fun, and makes you heal much more slowly than usual.'

'Right, and I heal much more quickly now, I've noticed that.' I said, nodding and focusing on every word. The student in me wanted to take notes, but somehow I didn't think he'd appreciate that.

'And Joan… werewolf women can _become_ pregnant, but they miscarry in the third, fourth, or fifth month. With the change.' He looked at me sadly, sympathetically. Did I look sad to him? Did he pity me? 'The baby just can't take shapeshifting I guess. The Morrok's second son is the only person ever born from a werewolf woman I believe—and she had magic that kept her from shifting. Male werewolves can have children with human women, but not easily' I was quiet, considering. What do you say to that? Until the death of my son, I never knew I wanted children. Now that I couldn't have any, it was a desperate burn in me.

'Who is the Marrok?' I asked. He took a deep breath.

'The Marrok is our leader. Keep eating, and I will explain away, because clearly the bast—'He stopped mid-word and closed his eyes as if containing himself. When he opened them, I noticed with a start that they were gold. 'Normally, wolves are informed of all this before they are turned. And it is their choice I might add.' I heard a hint of an Irish accent when he spoke then, but it disappeared as soon as it came. He pointed at my massive plate of food seriously, and I started eating.

While a squished two cheeseburgers, a glass of juice, and all the fries I could into a stomach clearly less swollen and small than I thought, he told me all about the Marrok, about the importance of body language, about pack hierarchy—everything. I probably should have actually taken notes, as I was basically taking werewolf 101 while drowsy and in shock.

'And then in every pack there is one of me—I'm the Alpha. That means I am duty bound (and personality bound) to protect and serve my pack. My deepest instincts are, put uncomfortably, to dominate and possess.' I stopped chewing and stared at him. Did he realize I had just come out of a long term relationship with domination and possession? 'Put well, my instincts and my pack magic serves to lead and protect. To keep those less dominant, those submissive, _safe_.' He said this last word with a tone of finality and seriousness that I couldn't misinterpret.

'So I'm a submissive…and that makes you want to protect me?' The gears were turning. Was Jim as crazy as I had thought or was hejust acting more on his animal instincts? Was _Angus_ acting on his animal instincts?

'Yes. Well, also no, or at least sort of and I think so.' He stuttered, and I giggled.

'What a way with words you have there, Alpha.' He smiled, but didn't break his very serious eye contact.

'What I mean is, I want to protect you not because you are submissive, but because I am dominant. Dominants will fiercely fight amongst each other for pack rankings, but they are also compelled to protect those less dominant. A submissive wolf-and this is where the maybe comes in, because I can't yet guarantee that that is what you are—is not just a very non-dominant wolf. You have very different instincts that do not include violence or a drive for power. You become the heart of the pack because you can be impartial and you are not out for your own gain in status. It is much more complex than one who wants to give orders and one who wants to follow them.'

'So the submisives in your pack are at the bottom of the pecking order—but comfortably so?' I asked. Though my gut was saying to trust him, it did sound a bit weird.

'No Joan, there _are_ no subs in my pack. But one in my ranks would not be a servant at the bottom—more like a princes we all loved to pamper.' As he said this, he leaned forward and put more food on my plate, smiling ironically.

'Wait, why are there no submissives like me? How many people—how many wolves are in your pack?' I set my plate down and stared at him with caution.

'My pack is one of the largest and most powerful in the country. Not that I am bragging,' He grinned. 'I have simply been Alpha for nearly 90 years here, and a stable pack like this grows its numbers from wolves who move here and those who have chosen the change. Our pack has 57 members—it doesn't sound like much, but the only bigger pack in North America is the Marrok's, and he claims a whole town in Montana. The nearby wilderness, the climate—because we run a bit hot, if you haven't noticed—and a few other factors have led to our pack's successes. But we have no submissive in our pack, not yet.' He looked pointedly at me as he sipped his juice.

'That numbers difference seems weird to me. I'm not that strange for being a submissive, am I? Shouldn't there be more of us? I mean, plenty of people are quiet and obedient' I had gone from self-pitying to curious. After all, he had called my kind the heart of the pack. I could be a heart, couldn't I? A nerdy, awkward, young heart?

'No—you are not strange. Submissives are rare because the change does not go well for many. When you were bitten, you were ill and struggled for your life, weather you knew it or not. The stubbornness and to be honest, brute strength of a dominant personality style makes it though that change easier. Many people die, submissives and women especially. You were very lucky, and though I… though the circumstances of your change make me want to bring Jim Parab back to life just so that I can kill him slowly again, I am glad you found your way to us. If you would join our pack, you would be our treasure, the heart we are missing.' he smiled gently at me, though his voice was thick and his eyes had gone gold again.

'I'm just a college student—actually, not even that anymore.' I took a moment to pause and file away the need to mourn the change in my identity from _student_ into _victim_. 'In fact, I was there on scholarship-I bet not showing up canceled that. God, I have nothing to offer your pack. You want me just because you need submissives?' He wanted a heart for his pack. I'm a busted heart. A watch where the gears ground and the glass cracked. Couldn't he see that?

He rose from his seat, took a strong step and knelt before me. Slowly, giving me time to pull away, he took my hands from my lap and held them to his chest. His warm, warm chest. Did he see me for the busted heart I was, only his dominant instincts made me even more attractive because I was something to put back together? Did he want me because he hadn't yet grasped that I was broken, or because he thought fixing me was his duty?

'You being a submissive is one of many reasons why I would like to ask you to join our pack. You should know I do not offer this lightly. Though, I would beg you join us even if you were dominant and male enough to be my Second, yes, you being submissive would be a valuable asset to my large pack missing its heart. But more importantly, one of my pack, however disliked in life, has wronged you in my domain, on my watch, in such a way as I can never fix, and I can never repay. But I do feel it is my duty to try to make it up to you, to help you, to serve you, save you, protect you, shelter you, and support you in any way I am able.'

His golden eyes burned into me fiercely as he paused for thought. He was using his Alpha voice, the voice that had made me calmly crawl out from under the bed to face the world and my fears once more. His voice was a compelling music. I had to trust. There was no alternative to the dominance in his voice, and a thrill ran through me as his accent thickened again, with a clear Irish lent to the R's now.

'In my pack, I would offer you shelter, I would promise all your needs be met, and though we would have to work out some kinks like a possible new identity and forged transcripts, I would like to pay for the education you were torn away from. I would like to provide for you and to protect you. It would not… it would be nothing like what Jim did.' He looked at me, sad and serious, as though it pained him to have to say what came next. 'This is not a request that you stay in my bed. This is a request to accept my payment of the debt I owe you. This is me begging you to let me and my pack fulfill the need I told you about—I must protect you. I must care for you. It is my nature. For that I beg you, join my pack.' He finished his speech and stared at me. Was he waiting for some sort of answer?

Did he realize I'm a broken heart? Was he asking me in spite of that, or because of that?

Was he offering me my life back? Was he offering me a new life?

Did I have any choice?"

_**AN:**__ Hello readers! I hope you are enjoying this fic so far. This concludes the last full chapter I have written. I wrote about 50 pages for this story on a binge muse session one night, and since then I have just been editing *-choughprettymuchrewritingbecauseIwasabitdrunkcou gh-* what I had into something cohesive, and breaking it into natural chapters. I tell you this because I have now made it through all of the material that is enough for full chapters. The point: I am not sure if I should continue with this or not. Number wise, it hasn't gotten much reaction compared to the other stories I would be writing. Though, it could be the Brigg's world isn't too popular or that I don't really have an author fanbase on this account (I made a new one just for this because my little sis reads all my fics on my other account—a bit awkward considering that this one is about rape and my plot bunnies include graphic scenes later). Aaaaanyway, this is one of those annoyingly long AN's that asks for reviews—but honestly, I want to know what you think, because I won't waste my time if this keeps getting the same reaction. I have a pretty long outline with plans for action and craziness, but as always with my stories, the plot can organically change and develop with suggestions and critiques from readers, so let me know what you think. Maybe it's because it's my first jump into a really adult fic, but I'm just not feeling confident I should move on with this one. Let me know what you think, and be honest. _

_Thanks,_

_King Kilter_


	5. Of Beauty and Besties

After being trapped by a monster, Joan is no longer the same person. In fact, she's not really a person at all anymore.

But the local pack is especially protective and curious when they find that she's an unusual wolf…

**Warning:** Please don't read this you are too young for rape, graphic sex, cursing, etc.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Everything you recognize belongs to Patricia Briggs. I took the universe and characters from the Mercy Thompson series and the Alpha and Omega series. Briggs is awesome and I love her work—my characters and story exist in her world, but I'm not making any money off of it, so please don't sue me.

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**Of Beauty and Besties**

"I sat in stunned silence at his offer.

'You have a choice here,' he said seriously. 'While as a woman, you can't live on your own, outside of a pack, you can go to another pack, if you don't want to stay in Seattle. I will contact the Marrok tonight if you like, and he can find you a place in another pack if you can't—' he stopped suddenly, searching my face.

'No, no, this is probably all so fast isn't it? I'm so sorry, I'm still going about this all wrong. I hope you don't think I'm pressuring you, or flooding you with information. I want you to feel comfortable, but I keep getting ahead of myself. For now, pack or not, you are my honored guest and will be treated as such.' He sighed and smiled. I still didn't move. 'Are you feeling…all right? You look a bit green.'

As soon as he mentioned it, I felt my chest quaking, shaking with horrible purging hiccups.

I ate too much.

'No, no I—' I covered my mouth with my hands. _Oh God_. I was going to barf all over this beautiful room. Luckily, Angus recognized the international symbol for _Oh shit, puke incoming_! He scooped me out of the chair and dashed quicker than I could have thought possible across the hall and into one of the bedrooms adjacent to us, then through another door and into the bathroom. I practically leapt out of his arms, and next to the toilet, where-well, you know. Angus was kind enough to hold my hair. It was sweet of him, but really, I think it just furthered my embarrassment.

'Shhh, it's ok, let it out, let it all out.' He crooned soothingly behind me, to my mortification. 'It's my fault, I should have known not to stuff you when you've been starving.'

'I'm really OK now,' I croaked. 'Could you maybe just… give me some privacy?' I looked up at him.

'Yes, yes of course! I'm sorry.' He dropped my hair and handed me a washcloth from the counter. 'Actually—you probably want a shower and whatnot to get cleaned up?' He was looking at me awkwardly—maybe he was as embarrassed as I was.

I smiled, already feeling better now that I had purged my overstuffed stomach. 'Yes, I would very much love that, thank you.'

'Right then, I'll leave you to it. I'll see if I can't get you some new clothes while you're in here, though I'm not sure what Sara has left here... Anyway, holler if you need anything, or if you need help, or… well, just holler.' He smiled apologetically, and tapped his ear. 'Werewolf hearing, after all. I'll leave you to it!' He exited quickly, closing the door behind him.

Nothing scares off a man like barf. Good to know.

Showering was an experience. Somehow the details of the bathroom décor, the smell of the soap, the feeling of running conditioner through my tortured locks, all filled my mind. I didn't really spend any time thinking about what my life would be now, strangely enough. But then, showering was quite the experience, like I said. I used all the hot water and then enjoyed the lukewarm for a while.

Finally I stepped out, wrapping myself and my hair in two large, lush towels. I wiped down the mirror of steam and stood staring for a long time. You know that cheesy scene in a movie where someone looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize what they see or whatever? That wasn't me, but what I saw definitely freaked me out. Sort of. It was like when you find a picture of yourself from so long ago and think, _damn, what happened to me! I got so fat and old_. Only backwards. What had happened to me? How could I ever explain to anyone what had transpired in that room? How could I ever explain to myself how I'd gotten so old? And so thin? And my hair… God. I used to die it crazy colors all the time, purple, pink, blue, whatever I was feeling that month. Now my golden locks hung longer than they ever had in my life. Almost three years without a trim of my already long hair and…damn.

I dropped both towels and pulled my hair over my shoulders to cover my breasts. Before me stood… a beautiful young woman. I looked ten years older than the chubby teenager I once knew. Being a werewolf had done wonders for my once acne-ridden complexion, and being indoors for so long had faded away all of my farmers tans. I was no longer a pale, chubby, teen. I stared out at the photograph of the woman ten years gone from all that. My reflection felt… right. It seemed to settle something in me in a strange way. I should have been aghast. I should have been horrified. I should have been mourning my life lost. But instead I was marveling at my cascading golden locks, newly revealed collar bones and cheek bones, my flawless ivory skin, my aged eyes—my eyes, the same shade of blue, yet so much older. I was beautiful. And as much as I couldn't believe it, this new identity sat well with me; as if I'd always been meant to be that way. The heavy weight of always feeling like _the_ _ugliest girl_ in the room lifted as the sudden knowledge that I could now be _a beautiful woman_. A shallow realization considering all I'd been through, but all the guilt of loving a torturer I should be feeling wasn't plaguing me then. Hey, no one said I had to be rational. Just shattered. Was feeling like a really short model such a bad way to pick up the pieces?

I found a new toothbrush in a drawer, for guests I guess. My hands still didn't work awesomely after being so broken, werewolf healing be dammed, so I couldn't really manage flossing, and after much frustration, I gave up and pulled the towel back around me. I slowly pulled the bathroom door open and looked out into the brightly lit bedroom.

On the bed lounged one of the tallest women I've ever seen, smiling brightly. She had a bright red bob framing her angular face, and a tight jeans and sweater hugging her thin frame. So much for most beautiful girl in the room.

'Hi! I'm Sara, Angus called me, he wanted me to bring over some clothes, but I thought you'd also like some female company, oh, he told my your story, or at least what he knows, or at least the short version of that, or whatever, but don't be afraid of me, I'm a wolf too, in the pack, have been for a few years, anyway, don't just stand there do you want these clothes?!' Her voice was a perky rush—I still don't know how she does that without getting lightheaded.

'Oh—Hi Sara. I'm Joan.' I paused and she leaned forward, waiting for what? Me to blurt out my life story? I dunno, I'm chatty, but I've never been great at girl talk. 'So—could I maybe get those clothes so I'm not so… naked?'

'Oh yea sure here ya' go!' She bounced up spryly and handed me a large paper Nordstrom's bag, filled to the brim with clothes. 'Sorry, I didn't know your size, or what you'd want, Angus just told me skinny and shorter than me so I just grabbed a lot of different things I don't need back from my rather extensive closet, if I do say so myself, though now I'm not sure any of my bra's will do, there's a sports one in the bottom you might be able to squeeze over those puppies and I also threw in a sundress that's got elastic around there so you wouldn't need a bra and if you want—'

'Well,' I interrupted, 'Actually Sara, um, thank you for all this, but uh, I'm a bit shy, so if you wouldn't mind, I'd sure like some privacy while I change, sorry,'

She looked taken aback, and seemed to notice I was clad only in a towel. 'Oh right, sorry about that! I'll go sit in the bathroom so we can still chat while you change,' She said, smiling again as she darted around me. I sighed as she started talking again. Realizing this was the best I would get, and I should probably start my stay here attempting to make friends and not offend people, I dumped out the bag on the bedspread.

'I'm a dancer you know, or I was, so I'm pretty good with nudity, having changed so much in front of people and whatnot. I was actually topless in one really crazy show, though I was also covered in orange body paint, so you know, maybe all the eyes weren't on my little boobies…'

As she pattered on pleasantly about life as a dancer, I giggled at all the right times, half because I was being polite, and half because her mood was catching. I ended up choosing a dress that was more like a swimsuit cover up. Sara's AA boobies just weren't compatible with mine, and I was so NOT putting the damn old thing I came in with back on.

'—so anyway, in Atlanta, where I really got started, I had this weird drunken night where I cut off all my hair, it used to be really long, and then my ballet company dropped me because you have to be able to have a nice bun and also not get super drunk on weekdays!'

I laughed, feeling clean and refreshed already.

'You can come out, I'm dressed. Sorry about that, and you were right about, uh, about the bra's.' Sara hopped off the counter and jumped onto the pile of clothes on the bed, startling me a little. She laughed.

'Yea, I'm the one who's sorry about that one. We can go shopping ASAP. I was hoping since Angus said you're skinny, things would magically fit.'

I laughed and shook my head. 'Goana' take me a while to get used to that one!' Sara cocked her head to the side.

'Getting used to what? My clothes?

'I mean, it's just weird to hear someone call me skinny. All my life I've been chubby, or curvy if people are being nice. Not that it matters much, but I guess lycanthropy and starvation make a pretty good diet,' I said with a snort.

The light sank from her face and she sat up on the bed and looked up at me.

'You… you starved? I mean… Angus told me some creep had had you for a while but, I guess I just didn't… I mean. Wow.' Really? She was just now realizing getting held up by a madman wasn't honey and roses?

I smiled sadly at her. 'Yea. I mean, two years is a long time, and he fed me alright for most of it but I guess he was getting tired of me, or of treating me like his doll at least, and when Jim just stopped showing up, I didn't have much to eat for a while.'

'Jim?! Our Jim? He kept—how long—what-' Sara looked shocked and ready to ask me a slew of questions. So I held up a hand to stop the onslaught, knowing I'd have to tell her at least a little bit about it. Oh boy, can't wait to wash rinse repeat this conversation with everyone else in the pack. Suddenly, a really genius stupid idea came to me.

'Look, Sara, as long as we are having some girl talk, I have a proposition for you.' My serious face was mirrored in hers. Sara wasn't all bubblegum and ballet, as it turned out. And I would later realize Angus had assigned her to me for more than her girl parts.

'Ok, anything.'

'I've got a feeling I'll be joining this pack soon, or at least, I'll be around here a while longer. Now, I know you've got lots of questions and are pretty curious about what happened to me and whatnot. And I don't blame you, nor do I mind that you're wondering. I guess I should probably be feeling really secretive, pretending it didn't happen, making you chase the full story out of me; well, I just don't feel that way. People are going to have to know eventually, and I guess I have to talk about it, to get over it or whatever. Plus…well, just for a lot of reasons, I should tell you, and I do want to. But, I really, really, don't want to talk about it more than once. I'd really like to tell you about this once, and never have to tell the story again. I think that will really help me'

And hey, now that I'm telling you, I guess that plan didn't work out so well. But whatever, some distance has made the bigger picture easier to see. Who knows, maybe this storytelling session is therapeutic too. Anyhow, back to the task at hand.

'So my proposition is this: you seem like a friendly, talkative person. I'm betting you're on good terms with everyone in the pack. I'll tell you everything, and trust you to keep the curious people as informed as they have to be, and to keep them informed that I don't want to talk about it with anyone. I tell you, and you tell whoever you think needs to know, but keeps everyone off my back. I'd actually be really grateful.'

Uncharacteristically silent, Sara looked into my eyes for a long moment. She looked like she wanted to argue but, then nodded.

'Ok, if that's really what you want, who am I to say different. I would have one condition though.'

'Oh?' I raised an eyebrow.

'Angus has to be there. I mean, I know you've talked to him some, but if you're really ready to spill your guts, and are only going to do it once, it's pack business, so Angus should be there, and hear it right from you.' She seemed sure, and I couldn't think of a great argument. What could go wrong with Angus knowing? He already knew enough that his imagination was probably painting pictures worse than reality.

'Deal. But let's do it tomorrow. I kind of want to get some sleep, I got wiped out just from the shower.'

'I bet, I waited out here for most of it. An impressive length, and that's coming from a girl whose taken naps in showers before!' We smiled at each other. Hot damn, I was making a friend. How weird."

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**AN:** Sooo after much laziness and working on other stories, I realized I was still jotting down too many plot bunnies for this fic to abandon it. Then I struggled with this uber-long chapter, trying to cut it down. I eventually just broke it in two because it was giving me so much trouble. So sorry this is a bit shorter than my usual, and not much happens, but hey, it's something. Character development counts as action…right? Right?! Let me know what you think.


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